Life is Busting out ALL Over!

Archive for February 2009

So I managed to move in to a beautiful apartment complex complete with a beautiful apartment: new carpet, gorgeous crown molding, garden tub, etc. Quite different from the beautiful (in their own way) apartments in run down buildings in Chicago with warped hardwood floors I’ve lived in the past. It seems like I traded vintage for comfortable. I moved 5 times in Chicago for various reasons but mostly because I couldn’t find the right place to stay for awhile. My second week here I realized how much I loved this apartment and that yes, I think I could stay for awhile.

VICTORY!!! Right? So I thought. The apartment’s great but it seems that I won the jackpot in the crazy cat lady/is she or is she not on meth/wait, how many more cats do you have?!! neighbor. And who does she think is sweet and has good instincts about?? Yep, you got it. ME. Swell.

So pretty much this lady has creeped me out and I just try to be polite because it seems like she’s fallen on hard times lately, not to mention I got an almost-eviction notice on my apartment for hoarding 7 cats… and it was for her. And she’s got a lake house an hour away, which she invites me to all the time. This weekend, while coming back from the lake house, she hit a deer and I managed to come home right as she was and she pretty much burst into tears over it. She wanted to put it in her car (!!) but it ran away. I was like, I think I saw that once… in Tommy Boy. But I feel bad and she seems nice if not for seemingly a former participant on the TV show COPS.

Anyway, tonight she calls me and tells me one of her cats ran away. She tells me that another neighbor found this cat (which she keeps calling a kitten) and unfortunately Crazy Lady is at her lakehouse and would I mind getting the kitten and holding on to her until she can get back up here, it would only be an hour???

I should pause here and say that I have a cat. I HATE cats but my cat is flipping awesome and warmed me to cats in general. I have noticed how lonely she’s been since I’ve moved here and have contemplated getting another companion for her – kitten (so she can remain the dominant Alpha) or a dog (which is probably super impractical and Austin is the most dog-obsessed town I’ve ever lived in – it makes Chicago seem downright hostile to dogs – so this has been an influence but unlikely). Crazy cat lady wants to give me a kitten, I don’t know how many she has, I didn’t ask. I’ve thought about it and turned her down but I was curious about how my kitty would react to doing this the right way and keeping a kitten in the bathroom, separate from her. This is the appropriate way to introduce cats. Figured it’d only be a little while and a kitten… awwww.

So I agree to run over and get her kitty. I fix up an empty box with litter, get out bowls for food and water put it all in the bathroom. I grabbed my cat carrier and ran over. Only this kitty was not a “kitten” it is a CAT. And a huge one at that. My cat is 3 years old and this one has got to be at least twice her size. She is beautiful, Siamese mix with gorgeous blue eyes but flipping huge.

I bring the cat back. Set the carrier down while I arrange things in the bathroom. My kitty (who by the way hissed at a stray cat through the window, after the stray ventured onto my porch over the weekend and then mine sat and by the window for hours after it left like she missed it – Seriously I know it seems like it but I don’t live in Wild Kingdom) went up to the carrier and meowed in some sort of greeting and this cat GROWLED the most angry growl I’ve ever heard. So I was like okay, well this is going to be fun.

I put the cat in the bathroom and she seemed okay. Except for the fact that my bathroom door doesn’t like to stay shut and my cat is like staking out the door with all the new smells. I’ve gone in there a couple times to sit with the cat and try to calm her,  washed my hands to rid of my cat, and some times she lets me pet her but most of the time she growls and swats at me. Plus this cat has got FANGS like I’ve never seen before, holy jesus. The poor thing is so traumatized after being gone and then shuffled around that this is the least I can do. Oh, and did I mention that Crazy Lady was supposed to be back in an hour?? Yeah, that was like 5 hours ago.

So now I’ve got a mean ass cat in my bathroom, my sweet cat who seriously just wants a friend, and a Crazy Cat Lady who hasn’t returned. And I’m pretty sure I will not be showering tomorrow given the fact I can’t spend too much time in my bathroom without getting hissed at. I just hope that door stays shut while I’m work.

And to think that had I only gone to the gym after work like I planned, I could have missed all this fun!


One of my must-reads-whenever-she-posts bloggers (which is frankly, pretty much everyone on my RSS feed, it’s what I do when I need a break, and let’s face it I need a lot of breaks, so people keep posting!) had a really eloquent post today that I meant to comment on. However, it must be a long week or something because I can’t figure out how to comment on her post and then I thought it actually make make a better blog post of my own.

What she wrote really struck a chord with me but just asking a simple and honest question, with lots of important context surrounding it: How am I possibly still single and why hasn’t some guy snatched me up?

I’ve been ruminating about this a lot lately because, well, I just moved to a city in a new area of the country where it’s taken me by surprise how much I am adjusting to it. Which is a non-embarassing way of saying I don’t have any friends or strong connections here and it leaves me plenty of time to realize how alone I am. I’m also still struggling with the smoldering ashes of a break up of the most significant relationship I’ve had, which preceded YEARS of crash and burn dating while those nearest and dearest to me were finding their right fit. I thought I had finally found mine. In some ways I think I might have but in the more important ways I know that I didn’t. But now the same man that I wished “woulda, coulda, shoulda” in our relationship now “wants, can, and will” if given the opportunity again. I’m not interested because I don’t think I could ever really trust him to do the things he says he wants, can and will and I’m million miles away from Chicago and so NO. But it’s staring me right in the face and I’m questioning the timing if all and wondering When and Why?

So when I read Colleen’s beautiful post this morning, I sat up a little straighter in my chair and instantly recalled Why?, definitely for me but maybe for her and others as well. Eight years ago I bought a book that has helped me, rehelped me when I reread it later at a more appropriate time and helped others.

The book is by Iyanla Vanzant and it’s called In the Meantime: Finding Yourself and the Love You Want.

I know I throw up in my mouth a little too, every time I see it on my bookshelf.

It’s ridiculous that I even got this book in the first place for a number of reasons:

  • I was 22 when I bought it. Let me repeat TWENTY-TWO. Um, seriously? I hadn’t even moved out on my own yet when I got it.
  • I was kind of disappointed and heartbroken when I bought it. Over a year before I had a summer romance with a hometown boy who was BMOC at our high school who never gave me the time of day until we met at bar while home from college (although I had known who he was for years, he met me for the first time that night). We dated when I got home from school and he was Ivy-educated, former college football player and had excellent taste in music. It was glorious and I couldn’t believe he wanted to date ME. He ended up breaking up with me because he felt like I didn’t have time for him. Why? BECAUSE I TOLD HIM. So much for acting cool. I acted like I was going back to school in Champaign every weekend because I was awesome. I brought it on myself and I was regretting it big time because I was TWENTY TWO. (We don’t have to comment that it was a year later, because clearly it takes me a long time to get over people)
  • I only bought the book because I was flying from San Francisco to Allentown, PA and needed something to read. Um? Sleep maybe?
  • Also, and most importantly this was the year right after college and I travelled for a LIVING. I hopped from college to college every 4 days. I was in places like Gainesville, FL, Bangor, ME and Cheney, WA. Where on earth did I expect to find love and keep it being a vagabond? (Although I did find love but that’s another story for another day)

However, I think I was meant to buy this book for a reason. I read it the first time, and couldn’t relate to much of it, read it again years later and it made more sense. I had a co-worker who dated someone for 10 years, married him for 5 years and one day he came home and said he didn’t love her anymore. She was devastated. One night at some agency function, where alcohol was the main course, she ended up talking with me and got really emotional, understandably, and I didn’t know what to say so I mentioned this book. I brought it to work for her and she returned it saying it really spoke to her and some other stuff comparing me to an old wise woman or something (this was at another similar event, man the early part of this decade was fun!). I don’t know I’m hazy on the details but I was thrilled that it seemed like this book seemed to speak some truth.

I flipped through it tonight and think in my effort to stay positive, I’ll pick it up again. The essence of the book is that we all go through a “meantime” in which we grow to be the person we are supposed to be so that we can meet the love we are supposed to. Lots of stuff happen during this meantime, heartbreak, great love, tragic events and even marriages all help us realize where we are supposed to be.

I will say that I’m not a huge fan of self-help books but the author’s words are written in a way in which it feels like, well, an old wise woman is sort of giving you some food for thought.

For example:

There is no prescribed period or length of time you can spend in the meantime. It is not a matter of “If I do this, I’ll get out quicker!” Or “If I do it this way, I’ll never experience this again!” You are always your own experience. What is happening to you is happening through you. You will stay in the meantime for as long as it takes to get your inner workings in order. You will also be there for as long as it takes, not only for you to get ready, but for someone else to get ready. In other words, you may be ready, but your divine mate may not be ready. You may be healed of your insecurities, but your perfect partner may not be quite healed yet. You may have done all the forgiving you need to do, but the person you are waiting for may not have even begun to do forgiving and releasing work. Consequently, you will be in the meantime until the divine person you are preparing for is also prepared and ready for you. Do not be dismayed! This is a good thing! The meantime is protective as well as preparatory.

Good stuff, huh? Anyway, I know that this thinking is what I need to get back to if nothing else keeping me focused on recognizing my own place and path and to be okay with it. I have completely forgotten about this part of me that needs that nourishment, the part that was awaken today.

So thank you Colleen, for helping me remember.

Last fall I saw Louis CK on Conan O’Brien and he had the most amazing comedic commentary on today’s society. It’s genius and so, so true.

And then youtube took down the clip and I was sad because it totally makes me laugh.

And then I found it randomly again this morning and it makes me so very happy.

Also, I never give anything up for Lent but I think I’m going to give up complaining. Totally insigificant to my life so easy but also very integral to the inner commentary in my head, which will be hard. It’s my own Lenten paradox. It’s actually not true, kinda. I don’t know, Lent is SO confusing, I never have any idea of what to do. Do you punish yourself when you slip up, do you get Sundays free, am I or am I not supposed to not eat meat on Fridays???? I have no idea! I need to take a class on it or something. Clearly you can see how seriously I’ve taken this in the past.

But seriously, I can be pretty negative towards myself and tend to beat myself up over stuff that is stupid and not worth my time and also detrimental to my self-worth at points. So I’m going to stop. And to add Pollyanna to this Lenten season, if I do start to have negative thoughts, I’m going to stop myself and think of something positive.

And when I really want to complain and be negative, I’ll just watch this clip instead:

Update: It looks like you have to go to the post to watch the video. Or just click on the link at the bottom of the RSS feed to see it.  Good to know but I’ll keep the complaints to myself, I have a couple hours.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Ah, Oscars.  Although I look forward to his drunkard uncle, the Golden Globes, the most during awards season, I have to say I always enjoy the hell out of Oscar Day. From the red carpet until the never ending broadcast (and in past years, when I apparently didn’t require any sleep to function, the after party broadcast on E!).

I was actually impressed with this year’s broadcast. Although it was really long, I didn’t notice how long it had gone on until Jerry Lewis came up to get his humanitarian award and it was nearly 10pm. I loved Hugh Jackman more than I thought I would, although every year I wish Jon Stewart would be involved at some point.

More thoughts, some with pictures – get excited!

  • First of all, can Ryan Seacrest finally decide that working 10 jobs just isn’t working out and drop out of the Red Carpet coverage altogether? I think I ended up pouring myself a drink earlier than planned just to suffer through him. Anyway, my suggestion – Tim Gunn. He’s awesome. And after I saw and heard him right before the awards started I was so, so, so sad I wasted those hours with E! when Tim Gunn in 15 minutes did the job.
  • If Seacrest doesn’t leave, can he at least go through some sort of diversity sensitivity training course or something? Take for example, his interview with little kids from Slumdog Millionaire, some of which could not speak English and some who were just in shock, from I don’t know, maybe leaving Mumbai for the first time EVER and flying on a plane… Anyway, it was beyond awkward especially when he kept trying to ask the littles questions and he realized they didn’t speak English, he even called for a translator, before he spoke to the little girl in the blue dress who answered him back, and he says “She speaks GOOD English!!!!”. He also jokingly asked the kids if they brought their wife or husband along. I wonder if I was the only one who was like “Um, hello Arranged Marriages. Ouch.”
  • If your hot and very stylish boyfriend, finds you attractive in this:


You might be the HOTTEST WOMAN EVER. Don’t think Justin didn’t give her once over, and if he approved of this thing , then he wasn’t looking at the dress. I mean, really. Look at her face, she knows the dress is bad.

  • On the flip side, the award for making me feel like life is not fair belongs to:


Not only did she go to Harvard, graduate AND get published while there, she is hot and wears this dress like it was her job. And she dated Gael Garcia Bernal. I mean, thanks Natalie Portman. My life sucks.

While on that note:


Tilda Swinton, thanks for making me feel like I’ve got something going on. There are so many things I want to say here, but I won’t.

  • Jennifer Aniston, poise and class are always the best revenge. Even if they* are sitting in the front row and even if you have to be the babysitter to Jack Black and the lame dialogue written for you both. Well done. I would have been doing shots before I walked out on that stage. Related: Is it me or does John Mayer have the biggest head/face ever?


  • I know this is running long so I’m trying to wrap this up (see what I did there?! ha!)  but I have to say this: Danny Boyle has been my favorite director for the last 3 years ever since I saw his last movie before SM, Millions. To say Millions is a masterpiece is the understatement of the year (It also might be crap seeing as though it’s just my opinion).  It is the most beautiful, heartbreaking, and inspirational movie I’ve ever seen.  Everyone should see it. I hope I don’t build it up too much and then people don’t get it. Because people should get it. You can see understand why Boyle made Slumdog Millionaire. After I watched Millions for the first time and declared it to be my favorite movie of all time, I also declared Danny Boyle a genius (little did I know he had also done Transpotting). Anyway, I adore, adore, ADORE (in the Smashing Pumpkins sense as well) him. I was thrilled when he won.

Then I read this on facebook:

[redacted] thinks Danny Boyle looks like Timmy from “South Park”. I can’t help it!




I’m sorry but how cute are *they* – bradgelina

I’m finally on the good side of this nationwide cold/sinus/flu thing everyone seems to have, well within my facebook friends anyway. (god, how sad is that last part)

Sunday, I came down with it, missing a Super Bowl party and one of my only chances to socialize lately. Boo. Monday was death and Tuesday my boss let me sleep in. Random spurts of decongestant during the day and night and constant use of the Neti-Pot got me better.

One of the joys of moving is discovering how much shit you have and how much shit you have, which is no longer valid. I suppose this isn’t a normal issue but since my shit was in storage for four months, the supply of daytime/nightime cold/sinus medicine I had suddenly expired or was near expiration by the time I needed it this week. (and I hate going out and buying that stuff, I know I’ll need it eventually but it’s like once a year and I have a hard time buying single items that are over $10.00 in a grocery store – this I know I’m not alone and not afraid to admit it, I launched a new product – an automatic shower cleaner and it was $25.00. You know who bought it? Not anyone at grocery stores, that’s for sure. Definitely at Target but not at the grocery. Sorry, marketing digression over)

Bottom line: I had only TWO nighttime pills I could take to try to get better. I only take one at a time anyway because taking two makes me feel woozy the next morning.

I took them Sunday and Monday night.

Sunday night I lay down and try to fall asleep but some jackass somewhere in the building was playing techno music, I could feel the beats of the music vibrate through the walls. I could even hear the songs end and a new one start. I tossed and turned and finally fell asleep. But what the hell? 11:30 at night on a Sunday? I hoped someone called them in, I thought about it but forgot the next day.

Monday night I take a pill again and lay down and once AGAIN, that music started up again. I couldn’t remember if I heard it before I went to bed b/c the TV was on and I wasn’t paying attention. But I had just met my upstairs neighbor when I came home from work that night and she is a crazy bird but I couldn’t see her playing that kind of  music. And at 11:30 at night! Jesus.

I couldn’t sleep. I got up to see where the music was coming from, I was pissed. I went into my living room and opened the back door… and I couldn’t hear a thing. They must have turned it off, I thought and I went back to bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the *bump, bump, bump* of the music started AGAIN. That’s when I started thinking maybe there wasn’t any music and it was just me. But the pill kicked in and I passed out.

Last night, I ran out of pills but the neti-pot was helping me big time so I wasn’t very stuffy any longer and I felt much better so I didn’t go out and buy anything to help at night.

I put my head down on the pillow, at 11:30, same time as the nights before and NOTHING. No music, nothing. The walls were still, my head was clear. NOTHING.

I realize I should probably wait a couple more nights to confirm this but I am confident that the only dance party going on was in my brain. What the hell is IN that stuff?? And how much fun could I have if I take TWO pills like the directions state???!!

I feel like at any moment, I’ll come home from work and Tyler Durden will be making soap on my kitchen counter.

As in “fucking sick”. Fick.

I don’t know what I have, but I have it. I finally admit defeat. Not even my surefire Neti-pot is helping.

Here’s hoping it doesn’t last long. I think feeling sorry for myself is making it worse, I haven’t even lived here long enough to find a doctor. Ugh.

Holy heck! I was so expecting the Super Bowl to follow the advertising trends of Super Bowl Ads of late and be a ho-hum of a game. But it was exciting and I didn’t turn to Puppy Bowl once! Although I am on cold meds and ready to pass out, opting for a quick blog post and deferring The Office until tomorrow. (If this post is wacko, blame the meds, it’s the reason I’ve been calling Kurt Warner, Kirk Warner all night – and by the way was it me or was he REALLY standing close to that sports reporter after the game?)

The real reason I was amped for the Super Bowl tonight was Bruce Springsteen’s halftime performance. I admit, I have a huge crush on The Boss. And while I think he’s aged pretty well, I must say I have a hankering for the dirty, sweaty 1975 Bruce Springsteen. The Born to Run Bruce.

I know it’s a little odd, I’m not in my forties, I didn’t grow up in Jersey, and I wasn’t around or down on my luck when this young man and his friends stole the words and put them in my mouth along with the accompanying piano and horns. I didn’t even know that the band leader on Conan O’Brien was the drummer for the E Street Band until a couple of years ago.

But my love for old time Bruce is strong and it is real, in fact anytime I play the “Three Wishes” game (if you had three wishes right now what would they be? Fun with friends but fun to use as a pick up line for guys in bars, too) one of my wishes is always “To be of legal age in 1975 and be one of Bruce Springsteen’s groupies”. Seriously.

I was trying to find this one picture of him without a shirt and only in jeans to prove my point but I’m tired and doped up and I can’t find it. But I will by god, and I will frame it one day.

These will have to do, might not convince you but I certainly don’t need any convincing:


I was really hoping for Thunder Road tonight but I was more stoked when they opened with Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out. I was really surprised they chose this song, but Bruce likes to do the gentle middle finger every once and in awhile and this was perfect for a mainstream event and his headlining it.

Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out was written for the amazing Born to Run album and written as an F-You to the big record labels (most of them found on 10th ave in NYC) after many didn’t want to sign them unless they got rid of the Clarence Clemons “The Big Man”, the sole black member of the group. Apparently they didn’t think rock would sell with a black saxophonist. Bruce refused, wrote a song about it and the rest is history

bruce2Actually this picture is the original photo for the Born to Run album except the record label cut off The Big Man, only his shoulder is evident in the final album cover.  Pretty awesome that they played that song, in the biggest showcase on TV, and considered by some to be selling out, don’t you think??

My Bruce Springsteen adoration is actually one of the only lasting influences of my past relationship (you know the one that I continually struggle to move on and get over, I highly recommend NOT communicating with them, ladies. I learned the hard way). The Ex was really into Bruce but old Bruce – his influence was the music (my crush on 1975 Bruce was mine, and mine alone). We listened to it non stop and I highly recommend driving down Lake Shore Drive (in nice weather) with the windows down and Born to Run turned way up and singing your hearts out. Do it at night. It’s awesome.

Recently, I’ve been able to get back into Bruce without thinking of the Ex, which is probably one of the best feelings ever. I missed the songs for the hiatus I put them on. Truthfully, I’ll am grateful to the Ex for a lot of things he taught me, the most important being the qualities and needs I KNOW I need in a relationship. But I also wouldn’t ever have cared about Bruce Springsteen or his awesome music without the Ex, so that’s a good thing, too. Although I’m still pissed he kept my copy of the two disc wonder that is Bruce Springsteen Live at Hammersmith Odeon London 1975. Brilliant concert but even better pictures. Jerkwad.


musings and panic attacks of a Chicago girl embarking on a new life in Texas. Only it's not always June and it's not in song.

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